The Witch of Caldos
by northernstars22
Summary: In the wake of Felisa Howard's death, secrets come to light.
1. Chapter 1

_There was screaming all around her as she ran through the streets of the town. The ash from the explosion rained down from above, coating her hair, her skin, and her lungs. Her chest burned as she gasped for enough breath to continue. As the sky darkened and her vision grew dim, the bodies of her parents seemed to become all the more clear in her mind's eye. She'd been reading in her bedroom when the disaster struck. By the time the screaming began, the house had already partially collapsed, killing her mother and father instantly. She'd bent down to where her mother lay pinned beneath a heavy wooden beam, instinctively placing a hand on her chest- and recoiling in horror at the absence of life she felt._

_And so she ran._

* * *

Beverly awoke with a start, grasping for the bed sheets which she'd thrown off sometime during the night. She was panting heavily, and covered in sweat. She'd had the dream again.

_Arveda._

Squeezing her eyes against the lingering images, she reminded herself that she wasn't on Arveda anymore and she hadn't been for over 35 years. Taking a deep breath, she shook her head and chose to open her eyes up to the present day before her.

Her grandmother's funeral.

It was the day of her grandmother's funeral.

She'd spent the last few nights at Nana's house, rather than on the enterprise. She found a certain comfort in her old bed, a closeness to her family she hadn't felt in such a long time. The old fashionedness of the way they'd lived on Caldos made her smile; and also deeply unsettled her. As much as she'd loved-and still did love- her grandmother, they were wildly different women. Felisa Howard had been all smoke and water, faith and mysticism, while Beverly was fire and earth, logic and science.

And it didn't help that the house was causing her to dream of Arveda for the first time in decades. She thought she'd put that behind her. Despite the fact that she remembered little from the disaster, for years afterwards she'd experience vague nightmares full of screaming and hunger. Nana had been the one to comfort her in the middle of the night when she had been awoken by such memories - or rather a lack thereof. Her grandmother had gently explained to her that sometimes, memories are so painful that our soul chooses to seal them off inside our minds, to protect us from the pain. And that had been the case for Beverly for all those years. So, why were the dreams returning now? And why did she have a feeling of dread that they would get worse; and that she would start remembering.

As she wrapped herself in a robe and smoothed the quilt on her bed, she paused at her childhood bookshelf. There were medical textbooks, works of literature, herbal reference guides, and the odd book here or here concerning The Old Ways. Chuckling to herself at her grandmother's superstitions, she tilted her head and pulled one off the shelf, opening the cover. Inside was an inscription, "My Dear Little One, If you're ever ready, this will guide you; as will I."

Beverly slammed the book down on the desk and wiped the tears from her face. She had little interest in brewing remedies according to the lunar cycles of Earth. She had science, damn it, although little good it was doing her now.

Her breath hitching in her throat she picked the book back up, returning it to it's place beside her med school texts. This wasn't about a book. It was about her grandmother and the fact she'd never see her again. Never share a cup of tea with her. Never see her light up over subspace as she received updates on Wesley.

Heading down the wooden staircase to the kitchen, she methodically began making a pot of tea. Rummaging around the many jars, she began to add a little of this and a little of that. Motherwort to strengthen the heart, hawthorn and rose to assist with grief. She smiled, almost hearing her grandmother's voice, pleased she hadn't forgotten everything she'd learned.

"Herbs are scientifically backed forms of remedy and medicine, Nana, not superstition." She replied aloud to the voice in her head.

Once the water was boiled, she slowly poured a controlled stream over the antique strainer holding the dried plants. She leaned over the steam rising, taking it deep into her lungs. She made a mental note to add this recipe to the ship's replicator, although it wouldn't be the same. It never was the same without the process of selecting and grinding the herbs, feeling them in her hands. Tea was more than a beverage. It was a ritual; her grandmother had taught her that.

A knock at the door pulled her from her thoughts, startling her and causing her to jump. Tying her robe closed and taking her mug of tea along, she made for the door, opening it.

Not sure who she was expecting, but decidedly not having expected him, she simply stared.

"Jean-Luc?"

"I, uh, know today is going to be rather difficult." He said as he held up a paper bag.

If eyebrows could ask questions, then hers very much did, because he explained. "I thought you might like some company for breakfast. I brought croissants from the bakery in the town square."

She smiled weakly, stepped aside, and gestured for him to enter.

"Ah, you've a fire going, that's nice." He noticed.

Beverly tilted her head a bit, glancing at the fireplace to indeed find a blazing fire in the hearth. "Yes, I- suppose-"

"It really is a lovely home. I'm sure you have many happy memories here." He continued, not seeming to catch the murmerings under her breath.

"Um, yes, yes I do." She smiled, taking the bag from him and placing them on the small wooden table in the corner of the main living area. "Tea?"

"Yes, please."

She returned to the kitchen, preparing him a breakfast tea that she knew he would approve of. Glancing over her shoulder at him as he looked at pictures on a wall, she turned back to the tea thoughtfully. Her hand reached for a bottle of clove and orange extract, and added a few drops.

"I added a little something extra to help with your feeling decidedly un-grounded this morning Jean-Luc."

He accepted the mug from her, their fingers briefly making contact. If he hadn't seen her eyes widen slightly, he'd have thought he'd imagined the slight shock her felt as their skin touched.

"Being in a perfectly controlled environment, one forgets of things such as static electricity all too quickly." He smiled.

"Yes." She swallowed a lump in her throat.

Jean-Luc set his tea down, then took her own, placing it beside his on the table. He took her hands in his and squeezed gently. "How are you really Beverly? I know-

"I'm fine," she interrupted. She huffed at her own denial, pulled away from him and sat down in a wooden chair. "Of course I'm not fine."

Picard, glad he'd taken the entire day off, sank into a chair beside her, covering her shaking hands with his own. "I know, Beverly. I know."

Her eyes lifted from the table to his eyes; and she began to weep.

* * *

Chapter 2 already in the works, but please review! Wishes? Thoughts?


	2. Chapter 2

_Author's Note: Here is chapter 2. Admittedly, it's quite short, but seems a good place to pause. Because it was asked about, yes, this story does contain Ronin, but- while he remains the same, Beverly's reactions will be significantly different from canon, as are the circumstances surrounding her time on Caldos. So, please don't think this a mere sub rosa slight retelling._

* * *

The service hadn't been as bad as she'd imagined. It hadn't been pleasant, but she'd found herself quite capable of making it through without collapsing with grief. It was simmering below the surface, running through her veins, but she managed to keep it buried in the presence of others.

There was something, though. Something, _else, _bubbling in her blood. Or was it nipping at the edges of her brain? She wasn't certain, but it was there nonetheless, underlying the deep sadness.

She was one of the last to turn away from the burial site, dutifully keeping watch as people paid their respects to both her and her grandmother. A neighbor of Nana's had stopped to share her condolences and to tell Beverly how proudly her grandmother had always spoken of her. It was nice to hear and she appreciated the gesture. As the woman gave her a gentle hug and turned to leave, Beverly caught the site of a camellia being tossed upon the casket. Following the trajectory upwards to the source, she was surprised to see a man she was unfamiliar with. She'd never seen him on the colony, and she knew most everyone. Of course, she'd been away for a long time and the colony had expanded a good deal since her absence. Her gaze met his and he chanced a smile in her direction. She tried to return the gesture, but found herself frozen. Try as she might, she couldn't place the accompanying emotion. It wasn't fear, per se, but - actually, she had no idea _what_ it was that was now pulsing just below her ribcage. It felt akin to nerves perhaps, or a gut instinct perhaps, as if her body knew something she did not.

_The Knowing. _

_That's what Nana had always called it. A tangible, physical feeling sent to guide you. Beverly had only been 6 or 7 when her grandmother had shown her where to feel it._

'_Take your fingers and trace along the bottom of your rib cages. Do you feel where they come together in the middle?' She'd gently guided her fingers to the solar plexus area. 'There. This is where you will feel it when it comes. _

'_When does it come, Nana?' She'd asked._

'_Difficult to say Child. Difficult to say.' _

Beverly blinked against the sudden onslaught of memory, her hand gently resting on the upper portion of her abdomen. She remembered now. She'd had this feeling before. The last time she'd felt this was the morning of the Disaster. She'd bounded down the stairs that morning to tell her grandmother she'd felt the pulsing, but stopped abruptly at the sight of the older woman sitting at the table, both hands over her stomach, a deeply concerned grimace upon her face.

By the time she waded through a recollection she didn't even know she had, the graveyard was almost empty. A cold wind swept through, prickling her skin and she turned, suddenly sensing someone was watching her.

* * *

Deanna Troi had waited for her friend, in case she was needed, and to simply be a loving presence. She'd kept her distance, talking with some of the colonists while Beverly had conversations of her own, planning to wait for her at the entrance. She'd stood at the gate, waiting, when something grasped at her attention. It was so sudden and intense it almost overwhelmed her. It was a bundle of memory and emotion and an energy she honestly couldn't place, radiating through the cemetery with a force she'd only felt from her mother.

And it was coming from Beverly.

Her eyes instantly fell on the doctor's back, and just as instantly, she was caught staring.

Deanna smiled and began to close the distance between them. She was bewildered. She'd never experienced anything like that with a non-telepath, and certainly never with Beverly. Beverly _wasn't_ a telepath, she reminded herself, and, reaching out just to make certain of a fact she already knew to be true, reaffirmed it.

Crossing her arms over her chest against the drop in temperature, the doctor took one more look at the casket in front of her and sighed. If Beverly had any idea of what just happened, she certainly wasn't showing it. She smiled at Deanna, grateful for the company.

"Well, I guess I should be getting back to the house. I've got some things to do. It's only a few minutes from here, would you mind coming along?"

"I'd love to." Deanna smiled, and the two women began the walk back to the cottage on the edge of town.

* * *

Please review!


	3. Chapter 3

Note: Here it will start becoming evident that this is quite a departure from Sub Rosa. There are similarities of course, but much is altered. Also, for anyone fearing this may lean too supernatural, I hope you'll stick around and give it a chance. It is very much still sci-fi, with a sprinkling of supernatural, rather than the other way around.

* * *

As Deanna beamed back to the Enterprise, she tried to wave off the perplexing experiences of the afternoon. The two women had slowly made their way back to Felisa Howard's - now Beverly's- cottage. Try as she might, Troi couldn't entirely explain the wave of - well, whatever _that _had been - she'd been hit with in the cemetery. It simply wasn't possible that it had come from Beverly. Therefore, she reasoned, it had to have emanated from another source. The question, then, was who? Who - or what - could possibly radiate that amount of tangible, albeit invisible, energy?

Beverly had asked her if she'd noticed the handsome man with the longish hair and the camellia. She had not, nor did she think it entirely strange that a mourner would leave a beloved flower atop a casket. Especially in a decidedly ancient style of funeral. But Beverly had seemed bothered by his presence, and so, in turn, Deanna was bothered. The Doctor may not be empathic, but there was no one's intuition she trusted more, except perhaps Guinan's. Over the course of their 7 years serving together aboard the Enterprise, there'd been a scattering of moments. Moments in which something had indeed, been very wrong, and Beverly had been the first, or only, crew member to be affected, or to sense that something, whether it be time or reality or the emotional energy of the ship, had been altered.

And then there'd been the strange issue of Kesprytt. The Doctor and Captain had been implanted with thought-scanning devices, with the intent that their minds would easily give up Federation plans. They'd proved difficult to safely remove. Despite the medical team working endlessly, they weren't able to fully formulate a safe plan for surgery. Will, without the Captain or CMO's knowledge or permission, had consulted with the Prytt, insisting that, should they desire to remain free from outside influence, they would assist in the implant removal. The surgeon responsible for the initial surgery successfully collaborated with Dr. Selar, and within hours, both senior staff members were resting, comfortably sedated, and free of mind-altering devices. Before beaming the Prytt neurosurgeon back to his home, he'd stopped for a moment, seeming to search for words. Deanna had asked if there was something he needed, or wanted, to say.

_It's nothing. _He'd said, turning and stepping onto the transporter platform. _Only….you're Betazoid, yes? _

_I am. My father was human, but, yes. _

He'd narrowed his eyes. _Those implants were supposed to align themselves to their psi-wave patterns, transmitting their thoughts directly to our computers. _

_Yes, Dr. Crusher explained as much. _

He shook his head. _But they never did. We never received any information even though the implants were shown to be functioning properly. _

_And? _Deanna had begun to feel irritation.

_Your people, instead, experienced a telepathic link. _

_Yes, I sensed as much in Sickbay._

_No, but that isn't possible. The devices don't allow for person to person transmission, and even if they did, it would be merely words, not entire thoughts, emotions, imagery. _He stopped in thought again, looking at the floor and then he'd looked back up to Troi. _The Doctor….you'd have told me before the surgery if she was Betazoid too. It would have been necessary knowledge because of the different brain chemistry. _

_Dr. Crusher is not Betazoid, I can assure you._

He'd sighed. He hadn't believed her. And at the time she'd dismissed it as inferior medical knowledge compared to their own. Yes, they'd developed the technology and were the ones who knew how to safely remove it, but that did not mean they had fully explored it or knew every facet of how it might work - especially when human brains were not identical to Kesprytt brains.

But now that conversation had highlighted itself in her memories.

She'd sat with Beverly for an hour or so at the cottage, listening to stories about her friend's grandmother and the woman who'd raised her. She'd learned Beverly remembered her mother better than she'd guessed; that the Howards were somewhat of an anomaly in Earth culture, as a matriarchal line stretching back a millennia; that she and her Nana had been two of only a handful of survivors of the Arvada Disaster.

When a chill swept through the room and the sky outside began to darken, she'd learned her friend was quite capable of starting a fire the old-fashioned way.

But Deanna Troi had not learned what was going on or indeed if something even was. Nor did she have enough clarity on the situation to fully make heads or tails of it. And she certainly didn't have anything to discuss with anyone else.

She did know, however, that something was _off. _She just didn't know what it was.

Or where it was coming from.

* * *

Beverly hadn't wanted to be left alone, but then again, she had. Grief was funny that way. Everything is wrong and nothing is right. One moment you almost forget, the next you're incapacitated with the pain.

She stoked the fire with the poker even though it didn't need it. It seemed to be burning just fine. Raging along with her feelings, she supposed. Grabbing the afghan from the back of her grandmother's chair she took a moment to bring the rough wool to her face. It was itchy and rough, but she inhaled the scent of the only family she'd had left. The tears threatened to flow again, but she managed to halt them for the time being.

She didn't know how much longer she'd be staying here on Caldos, and she refused to allow the haven her grandmother had created here to be tarnished with nothing but grief being flung about. So she sighed, picked up a stack of journals and trudged up the narrow staircase.

* * *

_Beverly- _

_The voice was muffled, but she'd definitely heard her name. _

_At first she thought she was on Arvada, but the denseness of the trees told her otherwise. Looking around her in every direction, she was unable to find any orientation. Nevertheless, her bare feet took her onward, toward the voice._

_She continued on for what felt to be an eternity before seeing a figure ahead of her._

_It was her Nana. She gasped and willed her feet to carry her faster. When she had closed the distance between them, she threw herself into her grandmother's arms. _

_'Nana! But I thought that, they told me you were gone.'_

_"I am Little One.'_

_'I-I don't understand.'_

_'Listen, Beverly, we haven't much time-'_

_'Much time for what, Nana?'_

_Felisa looked behind her as if she was expecting them to be interrupted at any moment. But it was only the two of them in the forest._

_'It's time to remember Beverly.'_

_'Remember **what**?'_

_'You forgot and I allowed it. I allowed it because you were hurting so. You hated yourself so.'_

_'Arvada?' _

_Felisa shook her head._

_'More than Arvada, Child.'_

_She froze suddenly, looking over her granddaughter's shoulder. Her eyes widened as footsteps sounded through the trees._

_'We have to go now. He's coming for you Beverly.'_

_She gripped Beverly's chin so firmly it brought pain._

_'Now Remember.'_

* * *

Gasping for breath she couldn't find, Beverly sat straight up in bed, her hands flying to her chest in relief as air poured into her lungs. Momentarily disoriented, she thought she was in her quarters on the Enterprise, but the dimly lit room reminded her she'd fallen asleep on her grandmother's bed when the sun had still been high in the sky.

She wondered if she needed to go back to the ship. Perhaps all the solitude was only encouraging a sort of isolated grief. Grief. That was a valid explanation for her dreams of late. Dreaming of a recently deceased loved one is entirely normal, she reminded herself. It was also completely within parameters for them to deliver cryptic messages in the form of a warning, she added internally. 'Yes, entirely fine." She said aloud.

Collecting the scattered journals along with herself, she stood, stretching her limbs out, and sighed.

"Remember _what,_ Nana?"

Frowning, she grabbed the afghan from the bed, draping it over her free arm, the other picking up the journals.

"Pull yourself together, Bev. They're only dreams."

She left the room, leaving the light on, when something caught her attention.

She felt it, before she heard it -

A knock at the door.

* * *

_Reviews are most welcome and they really do keep me going!_


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